


Honesty in Sapphire

by pastelprince



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, just because i love the idea of makoto and haru being just as compatible even if they met in uni, just lots of romantic feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-04 01:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelprince/pseuds/pastelprince
Summary: Makoto didn't understand how he could fall in love with someone he didn't know, but he would certainly save a seat for him in every class.





	1. Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that Makoto would be just the type to get a proper ~classmate crush~ on Haru.

It was a dull, grizzly Tuesday morning when Tachibana Makoto saw the most beautiful man in the world for the first time.

It had been purely luck that it happened this way; last evening, he’d been on the phone to his family for half of the night, his mother eager to know how his first day of classes at university had gone. Unfortunately, Makoto was usually the ‘early sleeper, early riser’ type, so going to bed at midnight had completely thrown him off-kilter. And so, for his very first sport psychology class, he was late.

Usually, Makoto wasn’t all too keen on the academic aspect of his degree; majoring in sports coaching meant that he could take up many opportunities to be in the pool with a class of bright-eyed kids, actively experiencing the job. But still, psychology sounded as if it would be the most interesting class out of his options; it was something Makoto had always enjoyed studying in the past.

But then, there was _him._

Makoto whispered a rushed “sorry I’m late,” as he came into the room, and he slipped into one of the last remaining seats with his bags sprawled out on the chair next to him. Then, as he was trying to sort out his pens and paper, there was a slight tap on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, could I sit here? There’s nowhere else left,” said a gentle, quiet voice near Makoto’s ear, and Makoto reacted automatically without even looking at the late student.

“Yes, of course, sorry! I only just got here too,” Makoto replied, quickly grabbing his things so that his classmate had room to sit down.

“Thanks,” he said as he sat down. That was when Makoto took a glance at him.

Smooth, dark hair framed his cheekbones, and between them, his irises shone a deep blue. In fact, his hair even appeared to be tinted with that same glint of sapphire. Makoto assumed it wasn’t natural, but it suited him so well that it may as well have been. And not to mention that his eyes were outlined by thick, dark eyelashes, and his small plump lips were a dainty pink – then Makoto realised that those lips were moving.

“-Excuse me?” He heard him say as he zoned back in on his surroundings. Makoto jumped, remembering that he should be extremely ashamed to peer at somebody so unabashedly. It wasn’t his intention to intimidate him at all, no matter how beautiful he may have been.

“S-Sorry, I totally zoned out! What’s up?” Makoto shook himself.

“Did you sign it? The register,” his classmate said, with perhaps a little apprehension or irritation. Makoto didn’t know what. His voice and his expression were so plain that Makoto was frustrated by how unreadable he was. He tapped the desk, and Makoto peered at the list of the class’ names.

“Oh, no, I haven’t. Thank you,” Makoto said as he took the page. He had just begun reprimanding himself internally for being such an embarrassment, when he realised that the page was extremely blurry. His glasses.

“Ah,” he said aloud, and he fumbled to take his glasses out from their case, promptly seating them on his nose. He noticed his classmate shuffle away awkwardly as he did so, and he realised he was probably being a nuisance to the guy again. Makoto took a deep breath, properly steeling himself to just act like a normal, casual student who wasn’t at all clumsy or distracted just because he was sitting next to an extremely attractive guy. Yeah.

That time, he managed to calm down. He signed his name at the bottom of the list with no issues, and he took a little glance at the name above his. _Nanase Haruka._

It was a pretty name for a pretty person. Makoto silently willed his brain to burn the kanji into his retinas, and then he passed the list back to the end of the desk.

After a torturous hour and a half of pointedly staring at the whiteboard and _not_ thinking about Nanase-kun, Makoto finally got the chance to speak to him. He packed his stuff up and slipped out from behind the desk so that people would be able to get past, and then he would also be able to talk with Nanase-kun face-to-face.

“Sorry for being so out of it earlier. It’s nice to meet you, though – my name’s Tachibana Makoto. What’s yours?” He smiled, trying with all his might to try and make some semblance of a connection with him. Or to witness any kind of reaction that wasn’t completely monotonous.

“Nanase Haruka,” he said quietly.

“Nanase-kun, is it? I’ll remember,” Makoto assured him, as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour and a half spelling it out in his mind and trying to imagine what exactly the shade of his eye colour was.

“I’m not usually late, but the start of uni is just such a busy time, you know? My mum was worried that Tokyo would defeat me within a day,” Makoto sighed.

“I’m always late,” Nanase said simply, his eyes cast off. Makoto could see something in his irises change – he reckoned that if he was going to be able to read him, then it would be simply by the expression he cast through that exquisite blue. How plain he was with the tone of his voice, however, rather made Makoto want to burst out laughing. He didn’t, though.

“Oh, is there anywhere you prefer to sit then? I could save you a seat next time, if you like,” Makoto offered, putting real effort into his friendly tone.

“Oh, um. I prefer to sit at the back,” Nanase said quietly. He still wasn’t looking Makoto in the eye.

“I’ll save you one, then!” Makoto beamed. Honestly, he preferred to sit nearer the front just so that it was easier to see what was written on the board, but that was no matter. He was willing to do just about anything right then if it meant he’d get to see more of Nanase. “Hey, so which cours-…” he started, but there came a soft interruption from Nanase.

“I’m sorry, I really have to go right now,” he said bluntly, turning to leave the room. Makoto felt his ambition physically deflate from his being.

“Oh… that’s okay. I’ll see you,” Makoto replied, his smile definitely feeling a little more forced as the corners of his lips tightened uncomfortably. But then Nanase looked up at him, fully showing Makoto his eyes, this time. The emotion? Makoto couldn’t work it out once again. But they were definitely wide, and full of _something_. Anger? Apology? Apprehension?

“Really sorry. I’ll see you on Thursday, okay?” he said before he left. It was simple enough, but Makoto couldn’t deny that the last bit encouraged just a little hope to his chest. 

 

* * *

 

 

Every Tuesday and every Thursday were the same. Makoto always saved him a seat, and Nanase always took it. After every class, Makoto told Nanase all about what was going on in his course and his family, and Nanase provided simple answers to every inquiry Makoto made to his personal life. They weren’t strangers, but at the same time, Makoto felt like Nanase was an elusive being, despite his beauty. He knew about him, but he still didn’t _know_ Nanase Haruka.

 

 

 

“My twin siblings are honestly nightmares. I love them, I really do, okay, but Mum told me that yesterday Ren played ‘hairdressers’ with Ran _again._ They look almost identical now, since he cut Ran’s hair right up to her ears. I mean, it would be fine if Ran asked mum for her hair to be cut like that, but I have no idea why she lets Ren do it! They spend more money trying to fix the style at the actual hair salon than it would be to get her hair cut in the first place! Do you have siblings, Nanase-kun?”

“That sounds tough. No, I don’t.”

 

 

“You must be doing a sport-related course too, right? I’m training to become a swimming coach – I just feel it’s so rewarding to see someone improve and become more confident in themselves. What do you study, Nanase-kun?”

“Swimming.”

“Oh, wow! I know competitive swimming isn’t an easy route to go down; I refused it myself. How come you chose it?”

“I just like swimming.”

 

 

“Oh, Nanase-kun, did you see that one cooking show? They make a lot of different fish dishes, so I thought it might be your thing, and-…”

“Oh, I don’t watch TV.”

 

 

After a couple of months, Makoto didn’t know whether Nanase was just a reserved person, or whether he found Makoto extremely annoying and was trying to keep a distance from him. But Nanase continued to sit with him out of his own choice, every class without fail. If there was one thing Makoto _did_ know by this point, it was that they had become more comfortable, and Makoto wasn’t quite so jittery anymore. Sure, Nanase didn’t let on much, but their one-sided conversations had become a natural and every-day thing that Makoto looked forward to as soon as the dawn sunlight roused him from sleep on a Tuesday or Thursday morning. Makoto at least believed they were well-fitting friends, even if friends _don’t_ usually appreciate how nice their other friend’s waist looks in a certain jumper.

 

* * *

 

 

But then, a day did come that their dynamic made a palpable shift.

One Thursday afternoon, Nanase had been in a terrible hurry to get somewhere immediately after class, and he had disappeared from the room after an extremely brief word of parting.

Truthfully, Makoto was somewhat downtrodden that he wasn’t going to be able to talk with Nanase today, and he lazily gathered up his stuff and dumped them into his backpack with a small pout on his lips. Then he picked up a rectangular black thing from the desk, and it took him a minute to realise that it wasn’t his own phone. He tried to unlock it, only for his eyes to be affronted by a turquoise-coloured wallpaper that he had never set, and a list of notifications stacked over it. In his confusion, he peered at the messages.

 

**Nagisa**

_omg Haru-chan did you still not ask out that cute guy you like in psychology???? DON’T TELL ME YOU CAN STILL BARELY TALK TO HIM. YOU SAID YOU’D DO IT TODAY! WATCH ME COME OVER THERE AND PHYSICALLY SET YOU TW…_

 

The message preview ended, and two very different states of panic squeezed into Makoto’s gut. Firstly, he had to somehow find Nanase to give his phone back to him! Who knew where he had rushed off to?

…And secondly, he was 99% sure the ‘cute guy in psychology’ may have been referring to himself, seeing as he had never seen Nanase utter even a single word to somebody else in the class… but he had no idea how to cope with maybe having a chance with someone he liked. So, he hastily tucked that second bit away in a foggy corner of his brain for the meantime, simply thinking of returning the device to its owner, and he jogged off.

Makoto was pretty sure he would find at least somebody who knew Nanase at the campus’ swimming pool. There were forever students from the swimming team coming and going, and they would at least be able to return it to Nanase tomorrow, if he wasn’t there today.

His shoes made a soft tap-tap as he briskly walked across the hallway tiling, and the scent of chlorine surged into his nose as soon as he could see the door to the pool. When he pushed it, it was heavier than expected, and made a resounding _bang!_ as it fell shut behind him.

The sound of the door appeared to alert everyone to his arrival, and the group of guys sitting around the edge of the room turned around to look at him. Makoto was kind of grateful for it; he wouldn’t have known who to go to if everyone had been scattered around doing their own thing.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” Makoto called to them. “Do any of you know Nanase Haruka? He’s a first year.”

A short, blonde guy popped out of the crowd and beamed at him with the power of a thousand suns.

“I’m teammates with Haru-chan! My name’s Hazuki Nagisa, how can I help?” he sung. He must’ve been about a foot shorter than Makoto, and had a round baby-face, but the amount of hidden lean muscle he was built of was still rather apparent. Well, to a sportsman’s eyes, anyway.

 _Hazuki Nagisa._ Makoto’s mind flashed back to the unopened message on Nanase’s phone; this was probably the same Nagisa, right?

“It’s nice to meet you, Hazuki-kun. I’m Tachibana Makoto, and I’m in Nanase-kun’s sport psychology class. He accidentally left his phone behind today, and I’m trying to get it back to him,” Makoto said with a sheepish smile, showing him the lost item. For some reason, Hazuki’s face lit up.

“Oh, you’re Mako-chan!” _Mako-chan? Did they used to know eachother?_ “I’ve heard a lot about you from Haru-chan! Please call me Nagisa. It’s rare that he makes new friends, so thank you for looking out for him. That is his phone, but you can give it to him in person! He’s about to do some practice - you can find him in the locker room.” Nagisa grinned, gesturing over towards a little hallway in the corner of the room.

He really added ‘-chan’ to the name of every person he knew? What a bold move. But he seemed like a really nice guy.

“Thank you, Nagisa-kun,” Makoto smiled in return as he walked away.

“See you again soon, Mako-chan!” Nagisa hollered behind him.

The fact that Nanase was still in the building was all well and good – the errand hadn’t been quite as troubling as Makoto thought it may have been – but now he was extremely troubled by the fact that he couldn’t enter the locker room without maybe putting himself in a compromising position. While he had now become comfortable around Nanase, and no longer felt intimidated by how handsome he was, seeing him without clothes on would be a completely different thing altogether.

“Nanase-kun?” Makoto called out into the room, not daring to look beyond the end of the wall.

“I’m here, one second,” came the reply, before Nanase came out of the room in his jammers and his swimming cap and goggles in his hand. His lean form stopped rigid as soon as he saw Makoto’s face.

“Tachibana-kun?” He said in confusion, blinking a few times. “Why are you here?”

Makoto felt his face relax into a gentle smile, realising he really was just happy to talk with Nanase, even though he was very conscious of not letting himself take a look at Nanase’s form.

“You left your phone in class,” Makoto said as he held it out to him. Once the situation registered, he could sense the pure feeling of panic cloud Nanase’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t snoop through it or anything,” Makoto laughed softly, half-lying – but he concluded that it was worth it, so that Nanase didn’t panic about Makoto being freaked out by him. It was true, anyway – he hadn’t meant to see that message.

“Oh, thank you for coming after me,” Nanase said, taking the phone from Makoto’s grip.

“It’s no problem, Nanase-kun. Hope you have a rewarding practice, and I’ll see you on Tuesday,” Makoto held up a hand to say goodbye, and he pivoted around.

“Wait,” Nanase interrupted, placing a hand on Makoto’s shoulder for a moment to stop him from leaving. Makoto turned to look back at him, and for once, he was sure he was reading his emotions with no mistake.

He was wringing his hands nervously in front of his narrow waist, and hopeful eyes peeked up at Makoto from between his eyelashes.

“Ah, um… Tachibana-kun,” he started, and Makoto’s heart leaped, his throat suddenly feeling unbearably tight. He’d never initiated anything like this before.

“Do you like movies?” he continued, and Makoto couldn’t help himself from smiling as widely as his mouth would let him.

“Yes, I like to watch them quite often,” he replied simply.

“Oh, that’s good,” Nanase breathed. “We only ever see each other in class, so I thought it’d be a nice idea. Would you like to go watch a movie with me sometime this weekend?” his voice was uneven and nervous, but still as smooth as always.

“I’d really like that, Nanase-kun,” Makoto accepted, a warmth spreading through his chest. “Which film?”

“Um… I’m not sure yet. I’ll… text you with the details. And also…” he pursed his lips. “Feel free to call me Haru.”

_Oh._

Haru was simple to understand. Makoto had been a fool to think he was mysterious or difficult to read; he was quiet, but honest. It was obvious in the way that he stood with his fingertips slightly fiddling with his goggles, and how he avert his eyes so often – that Makoto didn’t annoy him at all, but rather, he liked Makoto a lot.

“Sure, Haru,” he said delicately. “And you can call me Makoto.”

The glint in Haru’s eyes shone through them again and he nodded; Makoto could tell that he was very happy that they were becoming closer. Feeling rather giddy with glee, Makoto pressed his palm to Haru’s shoulder in a friendly manner.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, and he walked off as calmly as he could possibly pretend to be, waving slightly as he departed.

He waited until he couldn’t smell the chlorine of the swimming pool before he brought down his cool and collected façade. He let the soles of his shoes shuffle along the tiling as he slapped his palms to his face, grinning into the safety of the darkness there. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.


	2. Conviction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it's easier to just give into those feelings.

And despite how the idea of _dating Haru from psychology class_ was absorbing his every train of thought throughout the entire evening, it was only in bed that one very blatant issue made itself clear to him.

_Haru didn’t have his number, and he didn’t have Haru’s._

Makoto had never dared to ask for it, and neither had Haru, presumably - and then Makoto hadn’t even considered the issue, since he was so busy thinking about more romantic fantasies.

And so that’s how he had ended up at university an hour earlier than usual. The swimming team had practice in the early slot before Makoto’s class had training, so Makoto thought he would be able to catch him to ask for his number, or LINE account, or anything. It was illogical for them to be close enough that they used each other’s first name, and yet still have no method of contact outside of class.

It was a shockingly frosty Friday morning, and Makoto had even decided to wear a turtleneck under his coat even though it was only early September. The wind was so chilling that it felt as if each gust of it was slapping Makoto across both cheeks, and he thanked the powers above that he had decided not to go into competitive swimming, just because it meant that he didn’t have to wake up on horribly early and miserable mornings such as these. But then again, there was no way miserable weather was going to make Makoto feel miserable - if it meant he would get to see Haru.

And that was where another problem lay.

What felt like hundreds of swimming team members gradually filtered in, and not one of them were Haru. Practice was just about to begin when Makoto was met with Nagisa coming in through the door.

“Oh, good morning, Mako-chan! What brings you here?” He grinned, his words bouncing through the corridor.

“Good morning, Nagisa-kun. I need to ask Haru something - is he coming?” Makoto asked. A huge sigh suddenly erupted through Nagisa’s lips as he pouted.

“I thought so. Haru-chan went _way_ overboard with training yesterday, and now he’s sick! Would you believe that,” Nagisa tutted. “He wants to become a professional athlete, and yet he can’t even take care of himself properly. _And_ he still tried to come in today! But I’m his roommate, so I made him stay at home,” he announced proudly. Makoto raised his eyebrows in sincere worry.

“Is he okay? What’s wrong with him?” Makoto inquired.

“Oh, he’s not dying or anything, don’t worry. He just has a nasty fever. A cold-type thing,” Nagisa explained. “But I am so glad that you’re here, Mako-chan. I have classes all day, so I can’t go back to check on him. I’d feel so bad if he passed out or something,” Nagisa sighed, moving to grab both of Makoto’s arms.

“Won’t you check up on him after your class? Bring him lunch or something? I’ll owe you big time,” Nagisa pleaded, his fingertips slightly digging into Makoto’s forearms.

Makoto could imagine Haru completely disregarding his personal health. He seemed to be the type who, once his mind was preoccupied by something, would concentrate all of his efforts and thoughts into one thing, and completely lose sight of the situation. He was straightforward like that, and although Makoto thought it to be a dangerous habit, he couldn’t help but admire him a little. Makoto felt clumsy in comparison. But maybe that meant he could support Haru in keeping better sight of himself-

He was getting ahead of himself again.

“Of course, I’m happy to help out,” Makoto accepted earnestly, Nagisa finally releasing his urging grip around Makoto’s forearms. A dazzling, innocent expression flashed through Nagisa’s eyes.

“Thank you so much, Mako-chan! I’m counting on you! We live in the campus accommodation, in room 305. Here!” Nagisa reached into his pocket and clumsily chucked the keys in Makoto’s direction. He barely caught them, managing to grasp them in his fingertips due to pure instinct, rather than really having a chance to aim. Actually, there was only one key on the ring, and everything else consisted of brightly coloured, plasticky charms. Makoto thought he recognised a couple of them from an anime that Ran used to watch all the time.

“I’m late, so see you! 305, okay? Don’t forget!” Nagisa rushed off down the hallway, the volume of his reverberating calls trailing away as the distance between them grew. The door clicked shut, and it was silent again.

Makoto remained with his feet planted to the spot. The chilly breeze rushed through his ears, amplified by the sudden absence of voices.

_Well._

Seems like he’d get to see Haru today after all.

 

 

 

Makoto wouldn’t really call himself a nervous person, since socialising and interacting with people was something that he genuinely enjoyed, so he rarely felt apprehensive about it. Yet, the whole way through training, a shaky feeling kept niggling in the pit of his stomach.

It wasn’t seeing or talking to Haru that he was afraid of; it was dealing with the implications that their conversation yesterday had left. Makoto was pretty sure… simple bros don’t ask bros out like that. Right?

Well, maybe they did. But he was pretty sure they didn’t blush like that, nor was there unresolved romantic tension as a nervous silence overtook them whilst they attempted to part ways.

And now he’d be in a room all alone with Haru, with no distractions from monotonous lecturers or splashes of pool water, so he could at least say he had grounds to be nervous.

 

 

The campus accommodation was dreary and grey in colour, but Makoto had heard that the facilities and location perks made up for its prison-like appearance. Even more so for athletics’ students; perhaps living so close to the pool on those painfully early mornings prevailed over any disadvantages. It must have taken Makoto a mere five minutes to walk from the pool, over to the supermarket, and then back again until he found himself standing outside room 305, the plated numbers staring at him face-on.

He triple-checked that this was the correct room, as if he hadn’t been repeating the same number in his head for over an hour, and then he steeled himself with a huge intake of breath through his nose. He held it as he rapped three times on the door with his knuckles, hard.

…Nothing.

Maybe half a minute of silence passed, and it was only when he suddenly began to feel very dizzy that Makoto realised that he was still standing rigid and not breathing. He abruptly released the large sum of nervous air that he had been holding, and his shoulders slumped as he brought himself back down to earth. He knocked once more for good measure, but again, no reply came.

Then, the nerves returned in full force, but not because he was thinking about romantic gestures anymore.

_What if he’d passed out? What if he’d fallen down and hurt himself? What if he-_

All worries about Haru maybe being in danger spurred him to try the door handle. It opened with ease, and it sent Makoto stumbling clumsily into the genkan.

“Haru?” He called out as he slipped off his shoes, and he walked down the short corridor (which also functioned as a mini kitchen to his left), before a wide space with a huge patio door opened up in front of him. Contrary to the dull exterior, the interior was bathed in sunlight coming through the windows, and the wooden flooring was a warm brown.

The right side of the room was – putting it nicely – an absolute tip. Clothes and books were strewn all over the floor, and what could only be described as a _mountain of plushies_ occupied over half the bed. Makoto didn’t even need to look twice to know that it was Nagisa’s room, because there was no way that it was Haru’s.

In stark contrast, the left side of the room was spotless and extremely simplistic; there was a laptop and a stack of books on the desk, but other than a high pile of blankets on the bed, there were no other items to be seen. And peeking out of the top of the cocoon of blankets, there was Haru’s shiny dark blue hair splayed out against the pillow, the blankets rising and falling steadily as he breathed.

Makoto let out a huge sigh of relief.

Right. He was sick, exhausted and it was 10am. It was definitely not crazy to think that maybe, he had simply been fast asleep. However, Makoto’s hasty entrance seemed to have stirred him, since he made an (extremely cute) tired groan as he turned over, his eyebrows knitted together as he sleepily stretched out his limbs and blinked his bleary eyes open.

His sleepy expression quickly shifted to confusion as his eyes came to focus on Makoto standing in the middle of the room like a deer caught in headlights.

“…Makoto?” he questioned, seemingly more to himself than to Makoto. His smooth voice was slightly deeper than usual, having just woken up, and it did nothing to remedy the attraction which tightly gripped Makoto’s heart.

“Good morning, Haru,” he greeted gently, not wanting to disturb him any more than he just had, and he tried his best to act as if it was totally normal to just waltz into your friend’s apartment uninvited. “You should really lock your door whilst you’re asleep,” he added with a small laugh.

Haru, still seemingly disorientated, took a moment before responding,

“Yeah… you’re right.”

 _Really cute._ Makoto knew it was maybe a little selfish of him to think so, when Haru was sick and tired, but seeing somebody so beautiful and elegant squish their nose up in confusion was really endearing.

“Nagisa told me you weren’t feeling well, and I said I would check up on you, so here. I brought you breakfast,” Makoto announced, walking over to shift himself onto the very edge of Haru’s bed, and he passed over the plastic bag.

“I got you a mackerel bentou – I hope that’s okay. I know you said mackerel is your favourite food, so…” he trailed off nervously. There was no way he could miss the way Haru’s eyes lit up as he heard the words ‘mackerel bentou’, and he suddenly seemed a hell of a lot more awake. He seized the plastic bag from Makoto’s fingertips as he sat up properly, and he dug his hands in to take the potentially delicious article.

“You didn’t have to,” Haru looked up sheepishly as he held the box between his two hands. “I have lots of mackerel here, you know.”

Makoto shrugged.

“It’s nice to be brought a meal in bed though, isn’t it? You’re sick, so it’s a pain to think about getting food, right?” Makoto mused. Haru shook his head defeatedly.

“Nagisa fusses too much. I’m not that sick,” he punctuated with a _snap_ as he broke the chopsticks apart. “But thank you. I appreciate it.”

Makoto shot him a doubtful look. Mainly because… Haru was being more talkative than usual. He thought that perhaps it would be awkward, but the conversation actually seemed to be flowing a lot easier. Maybe because Haru was feeling a bit out of it, or maybe just… because they had dissolved some tension. By finally arranging the, uh, _date_ thing.

To ensure that Haru wasn’t just spilling lies, Makoto slowly brought a palm up to Haru’s forehead. Haru closed his eyes – and Makoto couldn’t help but marvel at how delicately long his dark eyelashes were – as he gently pressed his palm over Haru’s skin. It’s true, he wasn’t feeling all that feverish, although a little too warm. However, Makoto quickly felt the temperature of his own skin begin to rise, and perhaps he imagined it, but Haru’s soft skin felt more and more heated as he left his palm there for longer than necessary, Haru’s eyes still gracefully closed.

Makoto was abruptly aware of how close he’d leaned over; he could see the faintest of pale freckles dashed across Haru’s cheekbones, and his pale rose lips were slightly open. If he leaned over _just a little more,_ perhaps he could kiss them, and-

Right. Yeah. Temperature.

Makoto pulled back before he could take the situation into a tenuous direction, and swiftly brought his palms back to his lap. Haru’s eyes fluttered open, and a dazed expression took place upon his blush-covered face. _Oh._

Perhaps he hadn’t been imagining things.

“You’re okay,” Makoto smiled. “You’re still a little hot, though,” Makoto said, immediately feeling a pang of guilt as his internal monologue added, _make that really, really hot._

He dragged his mind out of the gutter and back to actually doing something to help Haru _get better._

“I’ll go make you a drink. What would you like?” Makoto offered, sweet as he could be. “Please don’t say mackerel,” he added with an amused smile. An unfamiliar sound tumbled from Haru’s lips, confusing Makoto for a couple of seconds, but then it oh-so-terrifically registered in his mind as a giggle. He’d made Haru giggle. A sweet, high-pitched, musical giggle.

It took all he had to not let his mouth fall open in shock. His resting heartbeat sped up to what was probably an unhealthy level. _Oh boy, he had fallen in so deep. So deep._

“There’s a carton of iced latte in the fridge – I’d like some of that. Feel free to help yourself to a glass, too,” Haru explained, a semblance of a smile still splayed across his upturned lips as his cheeks returned to their usual pale colour.

“Got it, thank you. I’ll be one second,” Makoto raised a hand towards Haru, and then disappeared back into the dimly lit corridor. A fridge stood in the corner, and when Makoto opened it, its contents were so predictable that he wanted to burst out laughing. The top two shelves were mainly stacked with fish, of course – but he had to give Haru some credit. Noodles and different sorts of vegetables were also lined up there.

The bottom two shelves, however – were filled entirely with desserts. Jelly, pudding, cake, taiyaki, chocolate… Makoto wasn’t even sure that there was any savoury food _at all._ He wondered how exactly Haru and Nagisa’s friendship came about. Opposites attract, maybe? But looking at the fridge contents, he hoped Nagisa was taking care of himself properly; perhaps he’d be able to help out with cooking once they were closer, since all Haru seemed to cook was fish dishes.

 _Once they were closer._ He was sure acting confident for someone who shook just from fantasising a little about kissing the guy he liked.

The latte was in the side of the door, and he fetched two glasses from the shelf. Once he poured some out into both glasses, he walked carefully back to Haru’s room, his socks making a soft sound of footsteps as he padded evenly back over to the bed. He placed one down on Haru’s bedside table, and kept one to himself as he lowered himself back to sit on the edge of the bed.

“There you go,” Makoto sung, allowing himself to look back at Haru again. He swiftly took the glass from the table and sipped a mouthful of the sugary concoction. It was probably really strange to think that somebody was graceful just by the way they drank a glass of latte, but oh well. Makoto didn’t realise how parched he had gotten just from being nervous, but once one gulp of cold liquid soothed his dry throat, it wasn’t long before he had downed the entire thing.

“Makoto,” Haru said, and Makoto jumped a little at the rare call of his name. The second time ever.

“What is it?”

“I feel cold,” Haru complained, sinking further underneath the blankets to make a point. Makoto floundered.

“Oh, no! I should’ve offered you a hot drink, Haru, I’m sorry,” he gabbled, peering around the room for any more blankets. It appeared he was already even using Nagisa’s, since his bedding was bare, bar the plethora of stuffed toys. “Don’t you have any more blankets, or-…”

“No,” Haru said plainly. He sniffed pitiably. Then, he lifted up one corner of the blanket, and patted the space beside him in invitation. Makoto stared at him incredulously; had he really gone completely delirious? Was he playing it up? Or had his fever gotten worse? There was no way stuff like this _just happened._

But it did, and there he was, clambering underneath the blankets until his shoulder was flush against Haru’s. Haru shuffled a little closer. His skin felt uncomfortably hot against Makoto, especially since Makoto was still fully clothed and wearing a turtleneck, but Haru was shivering a little. Fevers mess with your sense of temperature like that.

And Makoto needed to concentrate on _anything_ but the soft press of Haru’s body against his arms, his waist, his legs…

“Hey, Haru – there was a reason I needed to see you today, too,” Makoto started.

“My number. Right?” Haru finished for him, and Makoto simply nodded after a second. “I realised it too.”

“If you know where your phone is, we could register each other now?” Makoto suggested, turning his face to make eye contact with Haru, but he instantly regretted it. Their proximity completely stripped him of his breath, and he rather quickly turned his attention back to the swirl patterns etched onto the ceiling.

“It’s next to you, on the table,” Haru said softly to his ear, and Makoto could ever so slightly feel the outline of his breath falling over his skin. He tensed up, willing his body not to quake. He was not the one with a fever, but he was definitely the one who was feeling desperate. He stiffly reached over for Haru’s phone, not trusting his voice to not make a fool of him. He stared unforgivingly at the “add new contact” icon, doing the thing where he was pretending to not be extremely distracted by Haru.

“Makoto,” Haru said to his ear again. _That’s the third time._ “About the weekend,” he started.

Makoto’s breath hitched. So Haru was the one to breach the topic again; for someone who once hadn’t seemed to be all too confident in himself, Makoto was actually beginning to have a hard time one-upping him with this flirting business.

“Are you still free?” he asked innocently, but Makoto didn’t miss the hint of _something_ in his voice as Haru wrapped his fingers around Makoto’s forearm softly.

“Of course,” he answered, smiling happily, yet not quite looking at Haru. He really wasn’t someone who was confident in addressing this… this feeling, this _tension,_ and he couldn’t help but admire Haru, who seemed smoother than ever.

This was something. It had to be. Makoto had to make it something.

A sudden confidence overtook him.

“Haru,” he started, finally finding himself looking into the deep swirls of blue tones in Haru’s eyes. In that moment, he regretted it; making an advance on someone whilst being limb-to-limb in bed with them wasn’t exactly the best situation if the outcome were to go badly. But, there was no going back now.

“Is this a date?”

He meant for it to be straightforward and confident, the same way that Haru had become, but – the words came out in a pathetically small, timid way, and Makoto could only thank the stars that he hadn’t stuttered.

Another satisfied smile played at one corner of Haru’s lips, and his eyes softened somewhat.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “As long as you want it to be?” he cocked his head and sent Makoto the sweetest expression.

_He was so refreshingly easy to read._

Makoto nodded vehemently, not trusting his voice in case it came out in the same mouse-like tone it had just now. Instead, he reached over with his left hand to where Haru was grasping his right arm, and he slid his fingers underneath his hand to hold it delicately.

A smile finally bubbled its way out through a wave of elation in Makoto’s chest, and he knew he probably looked like an idiot, since he could feel the muscles under his eyes tight with the strength of it. Haru ran a thumb over the hand which grasped his own.

“Except,” Haru began, finally taking his eyes away in order to look upwards in thought. “I don’t actually like the cinema.”

Makoto’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Then why would he-

“It was Nagisa,” he said as if that explained everything, clearly seeing what Makoto had been thinking. “Honestly, I was just worried about talking. I’m… people always tell me I’m boring to talk to. But I just never know what more to say. So Nagisa said I wouldn’t have to talk to you that way. But I don’t really care for films,” Haru explained thoughtfully, and Makoto noted that it really was his first time seeing Haru ramble. Makoto had long stopped minding that he had few things to say - but seeing him like this was cute too.

“Then let’s do something else,” Makoto proposed with a smile, replying to Haru’s touch with a thumb swipe of his own. “What would you really like to do?”

He was quick to answer.

“I don’t care,” he said, then propping himself up on his elbows so that he could look down at Makoto, his elegant features gentle as he met his eyes with Makoto’s. “I guess… somewhere that I _can_ talk with you. This is… corny, but… I really appreciate that you fill in the gaps.”

Makoto could definitely feel his silk-like words palpably falling against his own lips with each breath that came between them, and they were so _close-_

Was he going to? _Was he really going to?_

Makoto watched Haru’s eyelashes flutter downwards as he placed one hand along the side of Makoto’s shoulder, and he brought the other to Makoto’s neck, running his fingertips down the side as he hooked them under his turtleneck. He stayed looking at his own fingers for a few seconds, before the blue of his irises flitted back upwards to look into Makoto’s face meaningfully.

Makoto gulped. Hard.

He knew Haru felt it happen against his fingertips, and he could feel Haru’s breath trembling nervously over his skin.

He was going to _die_ if it carried on like this for much longer.

“Haru,” it came out as a pitiable near- _whine_ , and he might have cared if he hadn’t been feeling so absolutely desperate. “Can I kiss you?” he asked in a whispery tone, the tension finally getting the better of him.

“You’ll catch my cold,” Haru retorted half-heartedly - but it was low and gentle, his grip tightening on his shoulder, and Makoto could tell he was reluctant to refuse him.

“I don’t care,” Makoto hushed, glancing once to his _very soft-looking_ lips, before he was back pleading into Haru’s eyes again. “So, can I?”

Haru one-upped him again.

He didn’t need to say yes, because then his eyes were closing, and it only took a millisecond for Haru to bridge the extremely small gap between them.

Makoto realised he could no longer feel Haru’s breath, just before he felt the press of an experimental, light kiss to his lips. They lingered like that, barely moving for a moment, and Makoto was able to take a second to dwell on the fact that it was even softer than he could have imagined in his fantasies. He’d heard that girls were supposed to have softer lips to kiss than guys, but really, that had to be a stereotype; he couldn’t even fathom something could feel better than this.

The moment ended, and Makoto looked up at Haru through half-lidded eyes, where he saw an image of half-lidded blue looking back at him. Their breath was heavy with tension.

“Haru,” Makoto said – he _thought_ he said; it could have been no more than a gasp since it came out so quietly. He brought his left hand up to card his fingers into Haru’s hair, massaging through it a little. _Yeah, that was soft too._ And Haru obviously liked it a lot, seeing how his eyes fell shut in what looked like a state of bliss.

There was no way Makoto could take this tension.

His confidence refuelled, Makoto pulled Haru back in, and he caught his plump lips in another kiss.

This time, Haru shuffled himself over until he was resting completely on top of Makoto, and he met Makoto’s lips with kisses which were just as deep. He pulled the neck of Makoto’s sweater down, until he was able to fit the rest of his right hand inside the fabric there. His fingertips ran in circles over the side of Makoto’s neck, and he smoothed his left hand down the front of Makoto’s body until he was able to pull his arm over in order to hold his hand.

Makoto was usually ticklish, but for some reason, all it made him want to do was to pull Haru closer.

“Haru,” he repeated again against Haru’s lips, which definitely grew into a shameless whine this time. Haru let out a shaky breath, and then pushed himself back inwards as he replied with a slow swipe of his tongue against the skin of Makoto’s lips.

Makoto could only describe himself as a broken record. _That’s soft. Oh, that’s really soft. That’s soft._

Time became an immeasurable concept as Makoto lost himself in what he had been pining for for _months,_ still in utter disbelief that hey, that quiet guy who is really gorgeous is actually really sweet and is also interested in me and I’m _really actually kissing him._

Every time their lips came together, the supple and warm feeling of skin against skin sent Makoto further and further into a dream-like state, a vague dizziness coursing through his closed eyes as their every kiss parted in a sweet sound, and tasted of sugary latte on each other’s tongues.

A stronger dizziness overcame him as he forgot to breathe.

Makoto parted their kiss, turning to breathe heavily over Haru’s shoulder.

“Remember to breathe, Makoto,” Haru said, and with that tone, Makoto _knew_ Haru was teasing him.

It became even more obvious that he was being teased when Haru dived over to kiss down the other side of Makoto’s neck, only making it even more obvious that he was struggling to breathe properly in his mindless state.

That was definitely not ticklish. That was definitely something else.

After a while, the kisses on Makoto’s neck slowed down until they were small, affectionate ones that Haru would press to his skin every so often between simply embracing him. It appeared his stamina had finally waned also.

“Thank you,” Makoto smiled to Haru, not really thinking too deeply into _what_ exactly he was thanking him for. Perhaps it was simple gratitude for just… being there for Makoto, as well as giving him the confidence to get closer to someone he really adored.

“No, thank you,” Haru said in reply, snuggling further into Makoto’s side and wrapping a leg around his hips in a comfortable hug. Makoto wondered if Haru knew what he was thanking him for as well, but was simply glad to see his sharp features relaxed into a content expression. It was cute. Makoto wondered if he did it because he could tell Makoto thought he was cute.

He felt as if one day, he would know. Because Haru was honest.

And the longer he spent with him, the more he would be able to fill in the gaps.


End file.
